


Here We Are (Just The Same)

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: "I think - I think that I'm gonna have a relapse. Every time I see Slash inject himself or Duff drink, it brings me back and I want it so bad that it hurts." Izzy lowered his voice into a whisper. "And it isn't their fault - they don't know that it bothers me so badly, and they even try to hide it if they're sober enough but I can see it and I can smell it and I don't want to do it again!" Izzy compulsively grabbed onto his arm, fingers digging into track marks that'd long healed.Axl shushed him, feeling the small tremors, and knowing that panic was only a few steps away. "You don't have to be in the band." He soothed. "You'll be living in a different apartment. You don't have to see any of that shit. Just be with me, and that's enough." Axl paused. "If you want to." He said quickly afterwards.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	Here We Are (Just The Same)

When Izzy left, he had went in the middle of the night, avoiding detection, disappearing into the darkness, blending in - just like he'd always had. Izzy had taken his guitar and his some of his clothes, but the rest had been left behind, a meagre show of his possessions. He hadn't said so much as a word, just a silent whisper, closing the door as the rest of them slept on, unknowing as to what they would wake up to. 

He was gone. 

There were bits and pieces of him left - a shirt, a few of his guitar picks, his journal. Izzy liked writing. He would spend hours upon hours, scribbling nonsense onto the pages, tongue between his teeth, jabbing Axl with the sharp end whenever he tried to see what was being written. 

Axl picked up the notebook, opening it, squinting at the words. They had been written in Izzy's distinct chicken-scratch handwriting, jerky and almost hurried, even though there had never been a time when Izzy had been more relaxed as he sat there and wrote down those thoughts that nobody ever got to see

' _Where are all those words to fill in the lines? The ones I filled so easily before?'_

_'Now, I cannot muster the courage for anything more than this.'_

_'I'm weak. You know that. I cannot handle pressure nor intensity.'_

_'But that's not why I left.'_

The trash bags were under the kitchen sink, and Axl grabbed one of them, opening it and barely hesitating before he started grabbing anything that wasn't his and tossing it in like it didn't matter. He grabbed Izzy's shoes, his pants, his shirts and jackets, and threw them in. The guitar picks followed shortly thereafter, and then came what seemed like thousands of pencils, pens, little mementos that hadn't been important enough to take. 

It should've been sad, except Axl was too numb for anything at that moment except stoically throwing it all away. Books and lyrics written on crumbled sheets of paper were tossed into the bag, until it began so full with sharp edges that a hole appeared at the bottom. Axl dropped it, and didn't care how loudly it sounded on the wood. 

' _I love you, more than my words could ever express.'_

_'You're the one who rules my heart, Billy. More than anybody ever could.'_

_'But it's all too much.'_

_'Remember that saying? How, under pressure, precious things can break?'_

_'I broke, Billy.'_

_'Nobody can put me together again.'_

Axl grabbed another bag and put the full one in, tying it and dragging outside so that he could toss it into the dumpster, where it would stay, and rot under the hot sun. 

The numbness had faded away, and now, there was a low, furious anger pulsing throughout Axl's body, like lava, flowing slowly but surely, spreading the rage until there should've been steam coming out of his ears. Izzy had left. He was gone, and now, Axl was alone. 

For the first time in a long time, he was truly, completely alone. 

Ever since they were kids, Izzy had always been elusive, slipping through Axl's fingers like sand. Izzy was quiet and cryptic and now he was gone, having long left for some faraway place. Axl clenched his fists tightly, until his nails dug into the palms of his hands, and he felt like yelling - no, screaming until his vocal chords gave out on him. 

' _You won't want me anymore, Bill, for what I truly, really am.'_

_'I'm not like you, or Duff, or Slash, or, hell, even Steven or Matt.'_

_'I was made to be alone.'_

_'You weren't.'_

_'I feel so alone, even when I'm in a room full of people.'_

_'I feel so cold, even under the hot sun.'_

_'I'm dragging you down. I can tell.'_

Axl could feel himself shaking, gritting his teeth tightly to hold it a yell of anger. 

It wasn't so much as unexpected, as it was just terribly disappointing. Axl didn't know how he had missed the signs of Izzy planning his grand escape, but now that it had happened, Axl wondered if he had even planned it. Maybe it was just a random event that Izzy had decided on in the middle of the night, unexpected. 

Looking down at the concrete of the driveway, Axl saw that a shirt had fallen from the bag, and a part of him was tempted to just kick it away and walk back inside, maybe fall back asleep, but, maybe by some mysterious force that operated solely by its own ways, Axl crouched down and grabbed the shirt. 

The shirt was long, too big for Izzy's thin frame. It was purple and striped, and flapped around as a gust of wind whipped through. Axl looked at it, feeling the coarse material underneath his fingers. 

' _I don't deserve you, and I hate how self-pitying I sound, but it's true.'_

"Oh, Iz." Axl sighed, feeling as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped all over his head. 

The mere thought of going back inside, and facing the world without Izzy by his side, suddenly seemed too real. Axl closed his eyes, the anger slowly replaced by sadness, and a deep regret for his previous feelings. "You fucking idiot." He whispered, pressing the shirt against his chest, right against his heart. 

That was why Izzy had left - Axl never thought before he acted. 

"Fuck, fuck." Axl looked up at the sky, hoping for some sort of guidance, hoping for the familiar coldness of Izzy's body to press up against his own again. 

The answer was clear enough. 

' _I'm gonna go to my dad's while I figure out what I'm gonna do next.'_

_'I'll miss you, and I know that I won't be able to sleep for awhile without you.'_

_'But, in the end, things will be better. For you, I know that you'll thrive.'_

The train station was packed. 

What seemed like millions of people were crowded around, looking clueless and aimless, while Axl shouldered past them roughly, trying to search for that familiar boy who had promised forever and only given a day. It was useless to call out, because everybody was talking about something or another - Axl elbowed someone in their stomach accidentally as he went by. 

Despite that, Axl opened his mouth anyways. "Izzy!" He yelled, feeling like a character in some dumb romantic movie, trying to right their wrongs. "Izzy!" 

The people around him looked confused, some were angry. Their eyebrows were furrowed and their mouths open in half-made protests, but Axl didn't give a single damn about them because they weren't _his_ _Izzy._ None of them mattered, because they weren't Izzy Stradlin, professional rhythm guitarist and pain in Axl's ass. 

"Oh, for Christ's sake - Jeffrey!" Axl hoped to God that he wasn't too late. 

' _I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly.'_

_'But I had to. That'll make everything better, right?'_

Somehow, Axl managed to catch sight of a familiar face - long nose, dark eyes that almost looked like shiny black beetles in the distance. 

"Izzy!" Axl yelled again, but either Izzy had suddenly gone deaf or was purposefully ignoring him, because no response came. Axl hoped that it was the latter, because if Izzy couldn't hear him, then that gave him no chance of getting to him whatsoever. 

On that same note, Izzy might have a change of heart. 

Suddenly, there was a rush of people pulsing foward, and Axl tumbled to the ground, scratching his palms on the ground, his lips twisting into a snarl as he shoved himself back up. The crowd was heading for the train, which was beginning to depart. 

"Oh, no..." Axl shook his head, watching as the doors shut, and the train pulled from the station. He watched as it passed him by, sending any stray newspapers and paper cups flying into the air, and the train left, millions of faces, but none of them were the one that Axl loved so desperately that it was beginning to hurt. 

' _It'll stop all the arguing....'_

_'And the fighting....'_

_'And the screaming...'_

Axl felt heavy, and so, so alone. 

For some reason, he still had the shirt, clutched tightly within his fingers, and Axl pressed it against his face, shutting his eyes tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of the spicy, almost sharp cologne that Izzy always insisted on wearing without fail. 

It was all that remained, wasn't it? 

Axl forced himself to not care, because he wasn't weak, but, damn, he wanted to scream in utter misery. 

' _Don't hate me, Billy. Of all the things that've happened, I couldn't bear that.'_

And then a chill ran up Axl's spine, and he looked up, weary, wondering what he was going to see - maybe the apocalypse, coming to swallow him - but far from any hell, it was the only Heaven that Axl knew for sure he would ever see. 

Izzy stood there, dressed in baggy jeans and a too-big shirt, a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Hi." He mumbled, seeming a little shy, perhaps frightened. 

"Oh, Jesus." Axl moaned, walking toward Izzy, whose eyebrows were furrowed deeply, as if confused as to why Axl was standing there, holding one of his forgotten shirts on the train platform. 

Thankfully, Izzy went easily into Axl's arms, but his arms remained crossed over his chest, as if a shield, protecting his heart. Axl didn't care - he was too happy that Izzy hadn't left. Raising his hand, Axl stroked over Izzy's hair, once smooth, black and silky, now light brown and thickening into uncombed dreadlocks. 

Oh, they'd changed so much. 

Thinking back to when they'd first started out, Axl almost couldn't believe it. 

"Don't leave, Iz. I'll do anything - I'll get down on my knees and profess my love for you right here, right know - just don't leave." Axl whispered, clutching Izzy tighter, as if afraid that he would suddenly disappear. 

"It's best for us." Izzy said quietly. "I'm so tired of arguing, Axl." It sounded like a confession, deep from his soul. 

Axl nodded, beginning to feel frantic. "I know. I'll get us counseling, okay? Secrecy be damned to hell. We can go to therapy." He promised. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix us. And I'm so sorry that I didn't do it sooner." 

"We can't fix it." Izzy insisted, and then, finally, he reciprocated the hug, wrapping his arms around Axl's chest. "It's too late, isn't it?" 

"No, no, it's never too late." Axl pulled away, but pressed his hands against either side of Izzy's face, framing it, as if for a picture. 

Izzy made a face, like he was about to crack, but he held strong. "I can't go back, so please don't make me." He said. 

"Why not?" Axl asked. 

"I think - I think that I'm gonna have a relapse. Every time I see Slash inject himself or Duff drink, it brings me back and I want it _so bad that it hurts."_ Izzy lowered his voice into a whisper. "And it isn't their fault - they don't know that it bothers me so badly, and they even try to hide it if they're sober enough but I can see it and I can smell it and I don't want to do it again!" Izzy compulsively grabbed onto his arm, fingers digging into track marks that'd long healed. 

Axl shushed him, feeling the small tremors, and knowing that panic was only a few steps away. "You don't have to be in the band." He soothed. "You'll be living in a different apartment. You don't have to see any of that shit. Just be with me, and that's enough." Axl paused. "If you want to." He said quickly afterwards. 

Izzy nodded. "Yeah, I want to." He took a deep breathe. "I gotta call my dad, and I gotta-" 

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Axl kissing him, deep and sweet, hands still lightly stroking over his hair. "It's okay." Axl said. "We'll figure it out, together. Just like we always do." 

' _I love you, Billy. Forever and always."_


End file.
